In the Moonlight
by littlev123
Summary: A series of drabbles for the pairing Akira/Mishima. Prompt/drabble requests are closed. Thanks to everyone who sent one in!
1. Chapter 1

The muffled sound of Morgana's soft snoring—which the cat continued to deny he did whenever Akira mentioned it—and the quiet clacks of Mishima's fingers on his laptop's keys roused Akira from his semi-conscious state. Opening his eyes slightly and squinting against the harsh glare of the screen in the otherwise dark attic, he readjusted his hold on the shorter boy.

Mishima paused in his typing to click on a new post; unfortunately, Akira's current lack of glasses or contacts meant he only caught a fuzzy letters and lines.

"Oh, I thought you fell asleep," Mishima commented, though his absentminded tone revealed that he didn't expect Akira to answer. After all, the Phantom Thief had been drifting in and out of sleep for well over an hour.

Akira moved one arm so as to rub at his aching back. Currently Mishima sat between his legs on the lumpy bed, which had earlier prompted Akira to rest his chin on the other's shoulder and embrace him from behind. While he enjoyed the position, his back did not.

"Mm. What time is it…?" He groggily questioned.

"12:04," Mishima casually responded, as if being awake this late on a school night was perfectly acceptable.

"Let's go to sleep."

"In a little bit. I'm trying to get rid of all this spam on the forums and check on the new posts—"

"You've been doing that for…two hours." Morgana would throw a fit if he realized Akira was awake. As if sensing his thoughts, the feline's ear flicked, but he thankfully didn't wake.

"Sleep," Akira mumbled again.

Mishima bit back the phrases _but I have to keep working so the Phantom Thieves can help more people_ and _the site needs to stay up to par or it'll reflect badly on you guys._ While he no longer wished for fame—he still believed himself a jackass for using Akira and his friends like that—other worries still frequently popped into his mind. Instead of dwelling on them, he focused on the steady reassurance of the warm body against his own.

Finally, he exited out of the webpage and closed his laptop. Hearing Akira's hum of approval, Mishima set the device aside and prepared for much needed sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Prompt: "first kiss/confession"

* * *

"I love you."

Akira could pinpoint the exact moment Mishima's brain crashed to a halt at the curly-haired boy's sudden declaration. Mishima's mouth fell slack as his eyes widened to an almost comical degree. A blush instantly reddened the shorter male's cheekbones.

Shit. Where was his suave timing when he needed it the most? Now he feared he might have broken his crush.

While he desperately tried to think of damage control, Mishima started shaking his head.

"…I-I, hah, sorry, I could have s-sworn you said…" His tongue fumbled over the syllables. Mishima scrubbed the back of his neck, and his gaze bore into the table. "Ignore me, I, uh, totally misheard—"

"You didn't." Akira had wanted to plan a more romantic confession than this, but he had no intention of denying it. Taking a deep breath, he wiped his palms against his jeans.

Mishima jerked and his eyes jumped to Akira. Slowly, as if his mind struggled to even consider the new information, he lowered his hand. "You…really…?"

When the other nodded, Mishima swallowed thickly. The shorter remained silent for several moments before abruptly releasing a disbelieving chuckle. "I can't…holy shit."

A cold, heavy weight settled in Akira's stomach. He knew it was a possibility that the other wouldn't return his feelings, but—

"I think you're an idiot for saying that to me, of all people," Mishima remarked. However, a grin ever so slowly dawned on his face. "Especially when I already convinced myself you'd never like me back."

Realization struck Akira like the sun rising to illuminate the dark earth. Sweet giddiness rushed into his chest. "Of course I do. I've been wanting to tell for the longest time, but I didn't know how you'd react." He paused, and the serious gleam in his eyes caused Mishima to wonder what he was preparing to say next. "Can I kiss you?"

Once Mishima shook off the shock and nodded, Akira leaned over and closed the distance between them. At first the website administrator stayed stock still, as if moving the slightest bit would shatter the scene and throw him back into reality, but the excitement thrumming in his veins soon spurred him on. Tilting his head, he pressed his lips harder against the Phantom Thief's, desiring to seek more now that he's had a taste.

Unfortunately, his right mind returned to say that hey, maybe he should slow down and stop being greedy. He reluctantly pulled away. "That was probably too much."

"Not at all." Akira smirked in satisfaction. "That's the kind of selfish I like."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Prompt: "double date with another pairing in akihabara? With both pairings playing something (crane game/gun/) or just hanging out in the electronic city"

* * *

When Akira asked him to hang out in Akihabara, Mishima readily agreed with the expectation of enjoying the city with his boyfriend. However, upon meeting him at the station, he discovered that two others would be joining them.

Now, he didn't dislike Makoto and Haru. But he couldn't help the disappointment and petty bitterness that welled up in his chest. They were two beautiful girls, after all, and even though Akira was his boyfriend, he expected they would receive—and deserved—more attention than his average self.

So he greeted them more moodily than was called for, prompting Akira to send him a confused look before they entered the train.

Then as they entered an arcade and Haru pressed a kiss to Makoto's cheek for good luck on the crane game, Mishima belatedly realized that, oh, he really didn't have to worry about the girls vying for Akira's attention.

After two unsuccessful attempts at snagging one of the adorable plushes inside the machine, she declared it not worth more money. Mishima decided to try next and earned similar results, and even Akira only managed to latch onto a giraffe's ear which swiftly slid out of the crane's claws and allowed the cushiony creature to neatly return to its previous place.

"It's disappointing, but I suppose we should have expected that." Makoto commented with a sigh.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure stuff like this is rigged anyway." Mishima agreed.

When he glanced over at Akira, he bit his lip to stifle an amused grin. The taller male appeared to be almost crestfallen at his defeat by the machine, as if he had anticipated his natural proficiency to extend to games like this.

"Let me try." Haru's eyes sparked with determination.

"Have you ever played a crane game before?" Akira asked.

She shook her head and put in a token. "Nope! But I've watched you three do it."

Everyone huddled around the machine once more to watch. Akira absently rested his hand on the small of Mishima's back.

The large clear claw shifted backward and slightly to the right, its quiet whirring drowned out by the bouncy music and other people's voices blasting in the room. Then, sticking out her tongue in concentration, Haru pressed the button.

The teenagers held their breath as the claw descended, and Makoto inhaled sharply as it clamped around a brown plush. No one dared move as the toy ascended and slowly moved toward the deposit area.

As the crane stopped, it swayed precariously for a few moments and then released the bounty.

"You did it!" Mishima and Akira exclaimed in disbelief.

"Good job, Haru." Makoto commended happily as Haru excitedly wrapped her arms around her girlfriend.

Beaming, Haru retrieved the prize and held it out to her. "Thanks! Here, I want you to have it."

Makoto blinked. "Me…?" She accepted the toy and held it carefully in her hands, as if it were an invaluable treasure. A contented smile bloomed on her face. "Thank you."

"You know, I feel like we're committing blasphemy since it's a dog plush," Akira noted with a small laugh. Haru giggled in agreement before her eye caught another intriguing game at the other side of the room.

As she led the way over, Akira purposefully brushed his hand against Mishima's. "I like seeing you smile this much, Yuuki."

Mishima rubbed the back of his neck but made no effort to hide anything. "I'm having more fun than I thought I would. Plus I actually got to see you fail at something for once!"

"Hey!"


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Prompt: "Akira cooking for Mishi? Or teaching him how? Anything with food and mishima would be great actually"

* * *

Mishima sipped at his coffee. Normally he preferred sodas or water, as he detested bitter flavors; however, after pouring in as much sugar and creamer as the cup would hold, he found the taste incredible.

Then again, Akira had been the one who made it, so perhaps he was biased.

As his gaze traveled to Akira in the kitchen, he set down his mug. "Are you sure I don't need to pay? I don't have much, but…"

"I didn't use any of the expensive beans, so Sojiro won't mind," Akira reassured while masterfully chopping onions before sliding the pieces into a pot. "And it'd be a crime to give you coffee and no curry."

"If you say so." Mishima leaned on one hand as he watched the other cook. Or, more specifically, watched how the apron he wore shifted as he moved. How could such a stylish thief wear something as domestic as an apron and pull it off perfectly?

Akira must have noticed his glance because, a moment later, he smirked without looking up from the pot. "I didn't know you had a thing for aprons."

Mishima nearly fell out of his chair. Gripping the counter to regain his balance, he cursed the blush heating his cheeks. "W-What?! I don't!" The one time he really wasn't fantasizing, and he still got accused. It wasn't like he was imagining Akira in a maid's dress and—

He slurped obnoxiously loud on his drink to distract himself. This was not the time to be having those kinds of thoughts.

Akira released an amused huff, but he didn't add any further remarks. Soon the other finished and ladled the curry on a bed of fresh rice, and he set it down on the counter.

"Instead of going by the recipe, I decided to put a twist on it." Akira absently toyed with one of his curls—a nervous habit that Mishima had noticed recently.

The shorter male's eyes widened at the beautiful dish. Without hesitation he grabbed his spoon, scooped up a bite, and stuffed it in his mouth.

The mild, savory flavor washed over his tongue. An unexpected tang he couldn't quite name bloomed on his taste buds a moment after; was that the twist?

"This is delicious!" he exclaimed, voice muffled. Whoops. Akira was smiling at the compliment, though, so he supposed he didn't care that he talked with his mouth full.

He devoured the meal until hardly a few bites remained. Sighing contentedly, he set down the spoon. "You must make the girls in Home Ec jealous."

"I've just had a lot of practice," the taller male dismissed. "I could teach you if you want."

"Good luck with that. Anything more complicated than scrambled eggs gets butchered by my hands."

"No harm in trying, right?"


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** Prompt: "Akira having to be super swagger and defend Mishima from some thugs hitting on him maybe?"

* * *

"I know a great ramen place that's doing a couples special right now. Whaddya say?"

"No thanks," Mishima curtly responded. While the situation had taken him off guard, as no one other than Akira had ever shown interest in him before—and he still couldn't wrap his head around that one—he knew better than to believe the person had good intentions. The guy was probably made a bet with his friends that he could get a date with Mishima or something.

When he tried to move past, the student stepped right back into his bath.

"Come on. You've got nothing to lose! I'm a handsome guy and a total gentleman."

Yeah right. Mishima opened his mouth to once again reject, but a familiar voice spoke first.

"There you are, Yuuki." Akira stopped beside Mishima, standing close enough for their shoulders to brush. Instead of standing with his shoulders slumped as he normally did, Akira stood with his back straight, which easily allowed him to tower a couple inches over the persistent boy.

The upperclassman warily eyed Akira for a moment, probably remembering all the rumors surrounding his being a dangerous criminal. "…we were in the middle of something, so can't you wait?"

"You were? But I could have sworn I heard you being rejected already." Akira's confident, almost impish tone left the upperclassman stunned. Even Mishima glanced up at his boyfriend's face in surprise, and the sheer challenge in those dark eyes reminded Mishima that Akira was indeed a powerful Phantom Thief.

Placing an arm around Mishima's shoulders, Akira turned them away from the speechless boy and started leading them away

"Akira?" Mishima prompted.

"…I don't think I've ever been jealous like that before," Akira mused nonchalantly, as if discussing a change in the weather.

Mishima hadn't expected Akira's jealousy either. Hell, he was still in disbelief that it had happened over him. But damn if he hadn't liked that brazen gleam in Akira's eyes way too much.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** Prompt: "a fluffy sickfic where Mishima gets sick from overworking himself on the phansite (forgets to eat,stays up really late etc.). Akira cant be there 24/7 to tell the boy to get some rest after all. Mishima's body eventually throws in the towel and he pretty much collapses while he's hanging out with akira. And akira frets and fawns over his poor exhausted boyfriend"

* * *

Exhaustion weighed heavily in Mishima's aching limbs as he followed Akira through the backstreets. Though vaguely aware that the taller male was talking, his mind couldn't quite focus enough to comprehend the sounds.

He had spent the past few days working relentlessly on the Phan-site, eating little and forgoing sleep entirely. Evil never slept, and he considered giving up few nights' rest necessary if he wanted to keep everything on track. He even ignored lunch in favor of scrolling through the website on his phone.

Mishima had planned on finally crashing when he got home that day, but Akira had abruptly requested that they hang out at Café Leblanc.

His hunched form suddenly bumped against a chest, and he nearly lost balance before hands gripped his shoulders. Unfortunately that didn't stop the wave of dizziness that briefly washed over his vision.

"Yuuki! Hey, what's wrong?!" Akira demanded, eyes wide with worry.

"Nothin…jus' tired…" Mishima slurred.

Tired…? Akira bit back a curse. He hadn't been watching the other closely lately because he had been busy with part-time jobs and a Palace.

Leaning down and placing one of Mishima's arms over his shoulder, he helped the other inside. Thankfully the café was closed for a holiday that day, meaning he could settle Mishima in one of the empty booths without worry of customers or Sojiro.

He then sat down beside him and pulled a soft granola bar out of his backpack. Best not to overdo it in case it upset Mishima's empty stomach, he thought. Once he tore it open he held it out directly in front of the other's vision.

"Eat this, okay? At least a few bites," he gently insisted.

Dazed, Mishima blinked blearily several times before sluggishly reaching out and taking the offered snack. He managed four small bites, and Akira placed the rest on the table.

He wrapped one arm around the other, an act that would normally cause a pleased if sometimes flustered response but now went unnoticed by the website admin.

"Go to sleep for a while. I'll take care of everything until you wake up," he added, hoping that would be enough to convince the other's weary mind to forget the Phantom Thieves for now. To his relief, Mishima leaned against him, already unconscious.

The position wasn't the most comfortable and Akira would have to move him to his bed upstairs later, but at least Mishima was asleep in a safe place.

Akira really needed to have a serious talk with him about overworking himself like this. That would have to wait until he woke, though, and who knew when that would happen.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** The Girl Who Leapt Through Time AU

* * *

Several students glanced at Mishima with confusion when he entered the classroom that day. A cheerful smile on his face, he waved at Akira with unusual confidence before reaching his seat. He already knew what would happen within the next few hours, and that knowledge offered him a reassurance that he had never experienced before.

During Ms. Usami's class, as he anticipated, she flicked her gaze between Akira and Mishima before deciding to address the smaller male. "Mishima. What is the sum of angles a through e?"

"180 degrees," he answered instantly.

"Correct."

Mishima sat back in his chair, mentally giving himself a pat on the back. So what if he had no idea why that was the right answer? At least he looked smart in front of his peers.

God he loved whatever this power was. He hadn't been sure what to think of his ability to go back in time at first, but he had quickly realized its potential. It didn't matter if he screwed up anymore; he could redo it.

He could change how events played out.

He could even turn himself from a nobody into a somebody if he played his cards right.

Once school ended he met up with Akira, as they often walked together due to the close proximity of their homes. "Hey."

"Hey," Akira returned. His sharp gaze briefly considered the other, causing Mishima to squirm. Did he suspect something? After a moment, however, he appeared to dismiss whatever thought he had and said "ready to go?"

As they headed to the train station, they chatted idly about how Ryuji seemed to be interested on a girl in their class.

"It'd be strange not having him around as much," Akira noted. "I'm happy for him though, don't get me wrong."

Mishima nodded. "I know what you mean. We've sort of been a trio since the time you guys helped me to the nurse when I got hit in the face with a volleyball in middle school."

Akira abruptly stopped right before the entrance to the station. Mishima looked to him questioningly.

"…do you want to go on a date?" Akira asked, attempting cool nonchalance to mask his hope.

Mishima's breath caught in his throat.

A date? As in, a romantic one? No, no, that couldn't be right. They were part of a trio, a trio of friends. Akira, Mishima, and Ryuji. The misfits who found solace in each other. That was how Mishima had always expected it to stay.

"You…what?"

"I like you, Yuuki."

Mishima's dread wasn't because he didn't have a crush on Akira. He most definitely did. But he had never said anything for fear of changing the dynamics of their relationship. Everyone knew how easy it was for friends to move up to lovers only to break up and never have that same level of closeness again. So now, faced with the possibility that his love wasn't unrequited and that everything steady in his life might be changed, he was downright terrified.

Mishima turned on his heel and dashed away. Akira called after him, and Mishima's heart squeezed painfully. He couldn't look back. He couldn't stop. He had to leap through time again, had to prevent Akira from asking him that fateful question, had to save the most important friendship he ever had.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Prompt:** "the two try to spend some alone time together but are constantly interrupted by friends work missions or even a sneaky cat and when they finally find the time its when neither has any energy for it"

* * *

Akira was seriously beginning to wonder if the world despised his relationship with Mishima. Missions, requests, weapon shopping, Persona fusing, and school ate up much of his time, and nearly every time the attempted to spend time alone with him, it was interrupted by someone.

The past month in particular made him want to don his Phantom Thief attire, send a calling card titled "Fuck Off" to Igor (because if anyone knew how to contact whatever deity hated Akira's relationship it was him), and steal his boyfriend away to some place they'd never be found.

The first incident he had brushed off. He and Mishima had planned on checking out a place in Shibuya's square. However, Yusuke spotted them and tagged along. While not having alone time was disappointing, Akira knew that the artist probably didn't realize his intrusion and decided to let it go.

Then they chose to have a simple date at the café after Sojiro left for the evening. Futaba also happened to show up at that time, so she ended up in an in-depth conversation with Mishima about some television show.

And of course, when Akira dared to have Mishima come to his room late one night after a Mementos mission, Morgana adamantly refused to stop bothering them until they went to bed.

For once Akira understood why Ryuji threatened to toss the cat into a dog kennel on a daily basis.

The next day the Phantom Thief leader convinced Morgana to spend the night at Sojiro's house by promising to buy him clearance sushi at the store. Unfortunately Akira still had to run a few errands: buying weapons, checking out the new medicine at the clinic, and another quick Mementos mission. Despite exhaustion creeping into his bones, he invited Mishima over.

Akira plopped onto his bed, and Mishima sat down beside him with a yawn. Must have spent most of the night on the Phan-site again, Akira thought.

The curly-haired teen fell back against the mattress. "Why is it that I can fuse Satan, but I can't make the day long enough to spend more time with my boyfriend?" he mumbled under his breath.

"Sorry, I didn't hear that."

"It's nothing." Akira tugged on Mishima's hand, and in response the shorter male gingerly laid down next to him.

Neither had the energy to do more than lay there, gazing up at the ceiling or each other with the occasional slow conversation. Yet, Akira supposed, just being next to him was very nice, too.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:** Prompt: "maybe something about Kamoshida's abuse? Like Mishima sometimes flinches when Akira goes to touch/kiss him or something?"

* * *

Mishima gingerly placed his fingers against the large red splotch on his cheek. Experience reminded him that in a little over a day it would darken into a purplish bruise.

Hardly a few minutes ago he had woken beside Akira, warm and content yet with the unfortunate pressure of his full bladder forcing him out of bed. After relieving himself and still half-asleep, he managed to stumble over his own feet and smash his face against a cabinet door. The impact itself wouldn't have caused too great a problem if it weren't for the metal knob.

Wondering how the hell he managed such a ridiculous injury, Mishima had turned to the mirror to inspect the damage.

He lightly pressed the inflamed skin and earned a sharp ache. He moved his fingers away to once again examine his reflection.

 _My face hasn't been hurt this bad since…_ Like an icy ocean wave, the stirrings of forcibly repressed memories threatened to wash over him.

 _I'm fine. He's gone._

Yet his gaze remained locked on the bruise marring his skin.

Fingers lightly touching his shoulder sent his teetering disquiet into all-consuming panic. Shoulders flinching violently, he immediately stepped away. Eyes slammed shut, he focused on the rushed, shaky breaths leaving his lungs.

 _Don't run don't run, that'll piss him off more_ —a phantom ache encased his ribs in reminder— _just take the punch, shit shit shit I need to listen to what he's saying so I can respond fast enough to_ —

Instead of gruff, cruel words biting into his soul, he heard a familiar and concerned voice softly calling out Mishima's name.

He gradually opened his eyes to see Akira's worried expression. The taller male's body appeared stiff with tension, as if he was forcing himself not to reach out to Mishima again.

As realization grounded Mishima back to reality, his hysteria ebbed into lingering consternation. He attempted to prepare himself to speak, to alleviate Akira's concerned questions.

Akira ever-so-slowly held a hand out to him, palm up in offer of consolation.

Akira may have spoken, apologized for touching him when he was unaware, but Mishima heard nothing as he moved forward to wrap his arms around the other and focused on the solid, reassuring presence.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N:** Actual Thieves AU

* * *

Despite the near complete darkness inside the storage closet, Mishima moved to the back easily through muscle memory. He tentatively slid his hand over a shelf until his fingers found fabric. Grabbing what he knew to be his hoodie, he squeezed the pocket and was relieved to feel the solid rectangle of his phone inside.

He had worked in the museum for many months now; while not the most interesting job, it paid the bills, and his coworkers were fairly friendly. Earlier he had accidentally left not only his hoodie, but the device inside. Technically he wasn't supposed to be in the building after hours, which was why he decided not to turn on any lights. However, he needed his phone like he needed air, and there was no way he was waiting until the next day to retrieve it.

As he turned around to start heading out, he heard a quiet rustle from outside the closet. He paused.

He was probably imagining things. No one was in the museum except himself. His pulse thumped faster nonetheless.

When he had entered, the heavy door had closed until only a few inches remained. His eyes had long since adjusted to the darkness, allowing him to see through the gap. It offered him a limited view of a glass case surrounding the newest exhibit: a priceless, lustrous emerald from Egypt.

A dark figure entered his field of vision.

Frozen, Mishima watched the person stop beside the exhibit and inspect the gem.

A thief?!

Adrenaline pumping, he stepped away from the door and fumbled for his phone.

His foot knocked into the crate he had forgotten was there, and the ensuing rattle echoed far too loudly in his ears.

He instinctively looked down. A split second later he realized his mistake, and his gaze shot back in front of him—

—just in time to see the thief step into the closet.

Mishima stumbled back in a panic, tripped over the crate, and started to fall backward.

A gloved hand on his back stopped his descent. Breath hitching, he looked up at the masked man, who gave him a roguish smirk and slipped his phone out of his trembling fingers.

And the next thing Mishima knew, he had been pulled back to his feet, the intruder was gone, and the door had slammed shut.

"H-Hey!" Mishima shouted, brain finally catching up. He rushed to the door and roughly twisted the closet door handle; it barely budged. He tried a few more times before slumping onto the floor with a groan. No one would be around to let him out until morning, and he didn't have his phone to call someone.

Pulling his knees up to his chest, he rested his arms and head on them and allowed his heart rate to calm. The thief would be long gone by now.

He pondered over the brief glimpse of a sleek white mask and far too much leather to be practical, as well as wondering if he had imagined the impish grin.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N:** Prompt: "Do you think you could do a story where it's kinda reverse personality, like where Mishima is the suave, swag, flirtatious seme while Akira is the cute, innocent uke or something like that?"

* * *

Silently chewing on bread he bought from the cafeteria, Akira sat at his desk and tried to ignore the rumors swirling in the air around him. Several of his classmates, who were also currently eating lunch in the classroom, apparently found no problem creating theories about Akira's criminal background while he was in the same room.

This was only his second day at the school and already he wanted the floor to swallow him.

He finished his meal and stood. Head bowed and clutching the plastic wrap from his bread, he headed to the trash can at the front of the classroom.

As he walked around a group of students, one suddenly stepped back and bumped against him.

"Sorry!" Mishima automatically said, turning around to face the other student.

"Be careful, Mishima. That's Kurusu. Who knows what he might do," another classmate warned.

Mishima unabashedly glanced the supposed criminal over. "He looks like a regular guy to me." His expression shifted into a grin. "An exceptionally attractive one though."

Flustered, Akira hunched his shoulders further. From what he had noticed since starting school here, Mishima was a popular, charming volleyball player. Why would someone like him find the slouched, unruly-haired Akira appealing?

"Excuse me," Akira mumbled and turned away. He finally reached the trash can, dropped the plastic in it, and stuffed his sweaty hands into his pockets as he returned to his seat.

Pulling out his phone, he idly browsed the internet for a few minutes before slipped it back into his pocket. His gaze traveled over to Mishima, who had continued his conversation with his friends.

Mishima's endearingly round eyes shut briefly as he laughed at someone's joke. When he reached up to wipe away a mirthful tear, his rolled sleeve slipped to reveal more of the lean muscles defining his forearms. He then leaned back on a desk, allowing Akira to appreciate the other's pleasingly wider hips—

— _and oh shit Mishima was looking at him._

Despite obviously having caught the other checking him out, Mishima smiled.

A muted red covered Akira's cheeks, and he swiftly snapped his gaze to the window. Heart slamming against his ribcage, he cursed his lack of subtlety.

As embarrassing as the moment had been, however, the other's bright smile stayed on his mind for the rest of the day.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N:** Prompt: "I just want Mishima gushing about Akira (pre-relationship), about how cool and sexy he is because that's all Mishima can think about. Which is fine until one day he doesn't just think it, but subconsciously says it too which Akira might or might not hear ;)"

* * *

"Get that defense boost, Nishima!"

"That's not my name—I got the boost! Wait, shit, another wave of ninjas is coming."

"I put up a shield. Hurry over here!"

"There's no way I'll make it in time. I'm going to sacrifice the last of my HP to heal you!"

"You were a slightly above average partner in this war. I will honor your memory by taking the sword off your corpse."

Mishima sat back with a defeated sigh as Futaba continued to mash the buttons on her game controller. Setting his own controller in his lap, he watched her character finish off the horde on the low display television.

Realizing he hadn't heard any comments from Akira in a while, Mishima glanced over at the bed in the corner of the attic. The taller male lay on his side facing them, face lax and eyes closed in sleep. The particularly tough shift at the convenience store earlier must have worn him out.

Mishima smiled to himself. So many people at school were wary of the "criminal," but right now he looked like a regular student taking a nap.

Akira had been on Mishima's mind far more than he should be recently. But could anyone blame him? The Phantom Thief oozed coolness and confidence. Though not a talkative person, his words always held a weight to them, whether they were a snarky comeback or a piece of advice. He was unafraid to confront problems head on, though he often held back to avoid causing anything that would affect his probation.

Cockiness occasionally shone through in his tendency to show off; yet Mishima would too if he had Akira's skills and looks. The dark curly hair boasted a barely tamed rowdiness, and when his dark eyes smoldered with a teasing glint the volleyball player found it difficult to look away.

And that little toothy smirk he sometimes flashed was _not_ good for Mishima's heart.

"It's not fair how cool and hot he is…" he thought out loud, tone soft with admiration.

A loud, judgmental humming yanked him from his thoughts. His head whipped around to see that Futaba had paused the game and was staring at him with scrutinizing brown eyes.

Blood rushed to his face. "I-I mean—"

"Your stealth stat has to be in the negatives," she remarked.

"Huh?"

But no explanation came, as she had returned to her game.

Over on the bed, a recently awoken Akira kept his eyes shut while subtly shifting his hand to cover his growing smile.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N:** Medieval Royalty and Nobles AU.

* * *

Beautiful orchestral music and the polite chattering of nobles and royalty filled Haru's ears. Despite how wonderfully the musicians played and delicious the food tasted, she stood morosely in the corner of the ballroom. Her downcast gaze stared at nothing on the polished stone floor.

"May I have this dance?"

She looked up at the familiar voice. Mishima held his hand out to her, yet his lack of enthusiasm showed that dancing was only an excuse to talk. Mustering up a smile that fooled neither of them, she placed her hand in his and followed him.

"I heard about your engagement last week," Mishima commented as they found a less crowded spot on the dance floor.

She nodded sullenly. "I'm to be married to him in one week." While he placed a hand on her waist, she settled her fingers on his shoulder.

Mishima winced. She retracted her hand immediately, concern flashing in her eyes. "Was it him?"

"…yes."

"Surely if you told your parents, they would—"

Mishima sighed. "You know as well as I that they will not. Sir Kamoshida is captain of the king's guard; the fact that he is teaching me is supposed to be an honor."

They fell into a melancholy silence, twirling and stepping together in practiced movements. Once Haru married, her fiancé would undoubtedly prevent the childhood friends from seeing each other again.

Haru reigned as princess of her country, yet her father planned her future without any care for her input. Meanwhile, Mishima belonged to a noble family that expected him to transform into both a scholar and impressive swordsman, and to do so he must endure Kamoshida's merciless training.

Ten years ago they had met in this very room, two children whose hardships bonded them together. They still had sparks of hope in their hearts back then; now the flickers of optimism threatened to be snuffed out at any moment.

When the dance ended, Mishima bowed while Haru curtseyed as was customary.

Glancing over his shoulder, he noticed that their families were currently occupied with other nobles. "…shall we take a breath of fresh air?"

This moment would likely mark one of the last times they spoke to each other; he had heard that Haru's fiancé didn't take kindly to her speaking with other men. She agreed readily, and they hurried outside.

The door shut behind them, allowing only the faint candlelight from inside to light up the dark garden. In the sky the moon shone bright and clear.

Right when Mishima opened his mouth to speak, he heard a rustling from nearby. The possibility of assassins running through his head, he shielded her with his arm.

"Wh-Who's there?" he demanded, cursing the fear shaking his voice.

Two figures, both dressed in black cloaks and detailed masks, stepped out of the darkness and into their line of sight. One had a strong jawline and unruly curly hair, while the other had dark brown hair that ended an inch past her ears and sharp maroon eyes peeking out from the mask.

"We have no intention to harm you," the tallest reassured.

"Come with us. We shall explain later, but for now we must hurry," the other firmly insisted.

"…why?" Haru inquired. She appeared as surprised as Mishima that she had responded, as if the words had left straight form her heart and bypassed logic.

"You do not wish to live this life, do you?" the female said. While she stepped forward and directed a hand toward Haru, the man confidently held his hand out for Mishima.

The noble and princess looked at each other.

These people were suspicious to say the least, and for all they knew they might be whisked away and held for ransom or killed. But the promise of having something, _anything_ , other than the fates that awaited them was the first light of hope they had seen in years.

So in unison they nodded in silent agreement and turned back to the others. Haru's fingers grasped the other woman's, and Mishima's hand settled within the man's. The group then ran off into the night, and the sight of the castle growing smaller and smaller caused Haru and Mishima to exchange genuine smiles.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N:** Prompt: "Akira likes to cuddle, like he doesn't look like the kind of person that does. Mishima is very surprised when he's explaining something and then Akira just starts cuddling him. Like 'didn't expect the leader of the Phantom Thieves to be a cuddler'"

* * *

Hunched over his desk, Akira continued working on a set of lock picks while listening to Mishima talk. The smaller male lay on his bed, hands behind his head as he recounted events from his avid MMO days.

"—so then I had to take over the guild. Which was completely insane, given how low my level was, but no one else would do it. Luckily one of the guys gave me his best armor, the Fire Dragon Scales Plate."

Akira finished the last lock pick with practiced movements and, after setting them aside and out of sight on the off chance Sojiro ever glanced at his desk, pushed back his chair and stood.

"Have I told you about the Fire Dragon Scales Plate?"

Walking over to the bed, Akira shook his head. "I don't think so. I remember you mentioning the Ninetails robes though. Does it have as much defense as that one? Oh, and can you move over a bit?"

Mishima scooted as close to the wall as he could on the narrow mattress. "It did, but I heard from some people who still play that the plate got nerfed recently. It sucks since it looks so much cooler—"

The Phantom Thief placed an arm over his torso and settled his head on his chest, catching Mishima off guard. His cheeks warmed more from surprise than being flustered, and he soon relaxed. Shifting, he tentatively rested his around Akira, who gave a hum of approval.

"You can keep going. I'm listening," Akira reassured.

"Okay. What was I talking about…? Oh yeah, the plate. Like I was saying, it got nerfed because of its high defense and status blocking effects…"


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N:** Vampire/Vampire Hunter AU

* * *

" _I won't let you kill him!"_

Mishima screamed the declaration over pelting rain, squelches of Akira writhing in the mud behind him, and the sizzle of holy water searing skin. Moonlight glistening on Akira's gritted teeth and elongated fangs, he desperately tried and failed to focus on anything other than the hellish pain overwhelming his undead body. Two neat holes from silver bullets, one in his right shoulder and the other in his left thigh, exuded spears of agony that scattered his thoughts. Patches of skin on his arms and the left side of his neck continued to burn with the rain much too slowly soothing them.

Standing directly in front of Akira, Mishima kept his gun trained on a figure several yards away. Though his breaths came in pants, his hand and steely gaze remained unwavering.

"What the hell did you say?" Kamoshida scoffed, tone low in warning. They both wore similar long, heavy coats, though where it suited Kamoshida perfectly it nearly swallowed the younger. "Point my gun at the vampire scum's heart and pull the trigger so we can leave."

"No!"

"He's a monster. An abomination. He has to die before he hurts anyone." His barely suppressed rage at the insubordination was swiftly rising to the surface along with the volume of his voice.

Only a few hours ago Mishima would have flinched. He had spent most of his life dealing with this man's anger and knew what the consequences were of inciting it. Terror lay heavy and cold in his stomach, but his vow to protect Akira kept his mind clear.

"I don't care what he is. He and his friends treated me like I was a person, like I was _worth_ something, even after they found you were training me." Mishima's voice trembled not from fear, but from a wrath that had been flaring higher and higher ever since he had a taste of compassion.

Kamoshida shook his head. "You sad, pathetic little bastard. They're using you! They'll suck you dry the second you turn your back." A wicked grin stretched across his face. "Besides, we both know you won't actually shoot me."

A bitter laugh bubbled up from Mishima's chest, startling them both. This was all just so absurd, so insane…

Because Mishima knew, with an intoxicating surety, that he _would_ kill Kamoshida on the spot if he took one step closer.

"You're wrong. Remember the first thing you taught me? Don't hesitate," Mishima retorted.

Kamoshida's hands curled into fists, and the knuckles bleached white. An intense rage flickered in his eyes; yet he didn't step forward. "You'll regret this, Mishima. I'll make sure of it." He turned and walked off.

Once the night consumed the man's form, Mishima released a shaky sigh as the rush of ire and adrenaline drained from his body. Then he spun around, stuffed the gun underneath his belt, and dropped to his knees beside Akira.

"Yuu…ki…" Akira strained. His squirming had weakened from exhaustion, but the fact he could speak at all meant the holy water had lost its edge.

"It's f-fine, you'll be okay," Mishima stuttered out to both the other and himself. Whipping his phone out of his pocket, he wiped the screen against the slightly damp shirt underneath his coat before calling Ryuji.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N:** Prompt: "Perhaps something with Akira in his Joker persona/attire? Nothing smutty, just Mishima getting to be his phantom thief fanboy self, and the ensuing cuteness"

* * *

This wasn't a good idea.

If the rest of the Phantom Thieves found out Akira had done this without asking them first, he would never hear the end of it, and he couldn't blame them.

But when the idea struck him, the thought of Mishima's eyes sparkling in awe shattered all logic. So on a humid afternoon as they walked out the school gates, Akira turned to the smaller male with the invitation already tumbling from his mouth.

And if Akira had had any doubts, Mishima's stunned expression brightening into one of unadulterated excitement and eager acceptance would have ground those uncertainties into dust.

Pulling out his phone in a relatively secluded area, the Phantom Thief asked the other to close his eyes. Mishima did so without hesitation, and with a tap of a thumb they were transported to the edge of Mementos. Enemies rarely strayed this close to the exit, but nonetheless he glanced around to make sure.

"Okay, you can look now."

Mishima did so immediately, and his jaw dropped as he unabashedly observed the Phantom Thief standing in front of him. Hardly daring to breathe, the shorter teenager stepped closer, gaze traveling over the flattering contours of leather and sleek mask.

While Akira had received many a compliment about his attire from his teammates, this open, enthusiastic admiration caused heat to rush to his face. He knew he looked cool, of course, and he had even flaunted the fact jokingly at times, yet Mishima's reaction dried up his wellspring of sass and poise.

"Holy shit, Kurusu…" Mishima breathed, his mouth widening into a smile of wonderment. Then he started to circle the other, his steps bouncy in elation. "The trench coat…and the mask…! So cool!"

Wishing his mask could hide more of his reddened cheeks, Akira reached up to sheepishly twirl a strand of curly hair between his fingers. "Think so? You should see the others."

"Oh, and your gloves are red?" Mishima continued on, stopping in front of Akira. "That's an awesome contrast. Can I see them?"

"Uh, yeah. Sure." Akira held out his hand. Mishima grasped it between his own, fingers running over the smooth material covering his palm. Though surprised at the bold action, a fond smile of his own turned up his lips, and he concluded on the spot that this was worth all the tongue lashings he'd receive from his teammates later.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N:** Prompt: "Mishima decided to train to become like the Phantom Thieves and one day surprises Akira by picking him up bridal style with ease after he suffers a nasty fall"

* * *

"Akira!"

Mishima rushed down the school's stairs far more quickly than he should considering Akira _had just fallen down them._

The taller male, who had thumped against the last few steps on the way down, was sprawled on the floor By the time Mishima reached him, Akira managed to shake off his stunned stupor and carefully sit up.

Worry pinching Mishima's brows together, he crouched beside the other. "Are you okay?!"

"Yeah," Akira reassured. But the response came too quickly, too automatically, indicating that he hadn't even considered admitting he was anything less than fine. He blinked several times, squinted, and then reached up pat the skin near the corner of his eye. "Do you see my glasses anywhere?"

Mishima suppressed his frustration at Akira's nonchalance and glanced around. After a few moments he spotted the black frames and handed them over.

Once the glasses were returned to its rightful place, the curly-haired male looked over at the stairs. "Would've been ironic if stairs were the thing that took me out," he casually commented.

"Don't joke about that right now," Mishima groaned.

"Sorry," he sheepishly said as he started to rise to his feet. The moment he placed weight on his left ankle, however, he hissed and fell back to the ground.

His concern swiftly returned. "What's wrong?"

"…I think I sprained my ankle," he replied through gritted teeth.

"We should get you to the nurse. But you shouldn't walk on it…"

"I'm sure I'll be—"

"Leave it to me," the smaller teenager suddenly insisted, an idea having popped into his mind. Mouth set in determination, he slid his hands underneath the other's knees and across his back. Before Akira could question him, Mishima lifted him up with startling ease.

Noticing the Phantom Thief's shock, Mishima chuckled self-consciously. He tried to ignore the other students' stares that he knew were on them. "I, uh, was kind of hoping that if I was strong enough that I could be like you and the others someday. So I've been doing a lot of strength training."

"It's definitely paid off," Akira noted. A teasing glint entered his dark eyes. "Looks like you've swept me off my feet figuratively and literally."

Heat rushed to Mishima's cheeks. Then a soft, fond grin on his face, he sighed in amused exasperation, and he turned around to start walking to the nurse's office.


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N:** Prompt: "Can I prompt Shadow Yuuki being much, much more forward with his crush on Akira than IRL Yuuki would ever be, please? (Pre-relationship, obviously. Nothing creepy. Well, nothing too creepy. This is a Shadow, they're allowed to be a bit creepy.)"

* * *

Shadow Mishima's eyes blazed like golden fire fueled by desperation and rancor. The restlessly shifting inky particles enveloping his lower half lashed upward briefly. Yet Akira's gloved hands remained at his sides, and he hoped his mask hid his pity.

"I want the world to notice me!" Despite the ominous echoing accompanying the shadow's voice, the raw declaration pounded sympathy further into Akira's heart. While he mournfully accepted the fact that he could not have prevented Mishima's pain from manifesting into this, the illogical part of his mind wondered if he could have eased the torment somehow.

"But would using the Phan-site like that really satisfy you?" The Phantom Thief questioned. Though he strived to keep his tone even, his volume increased slightly in emphasis. "Are you only going to care about us and those people in need just so you can become famous? That can't be what you want."

"…you're Kurusu, aren't you?" The shadow straightened and continued to speak before Akira could utter a hesitant response. "I've always wanted more than a few minutes of your attention. It took this situation for that to happen, and my real self won't even know it."

"My attention…?"

"I'm so obvious about it! There's no way you haven't noticed," he scoffed.

"I was starting to wonder," Akira admitted. Recently he had started to mull over the idea, and it was partially due to his own budding fondness towards the smaller male.

Shadow Mishima sighed. "Another reason I throw everything into the Phan-site is because you have to keep talking to me for info." He stepped forward until a foot of space remained between them. Then, he reached out and placed his fingers on Akira's collarbone.

The Phantom Thief swallowed against the sudden dryness in his throat. "You can talk to me about other things, too. We're friends."

"That's what I tell myself. 'We're friends.' But I'm not always content with that. Pretty selfish of me, huh?" His hand started to trail down to his chest, but Akira gently grasped his wrist.

Shaking his head, Akira moved the other's hand away before releasing him. "What's wrong with having feelings like that sometimes? It's what you do with them that matters," he pointed out.

"Well I must not have been handling them well since you're here." The smaller figure crossed his arms as his despair blazed once more. "Come on then. Battle me. Change my heart!"

Before the other had finished speaking, Akira started to slowly shake his head. "We don't need to."

"What?! Why not?" he frantically questioned. His body trembled; that battle was supposed to prove he was worth the effort of changing his heart, yet he couldn't even have that. Akira wished he could reassure him, but in this state, the only words Mishima would listen to were his own.

"You already know what you're doing is wrong. You don't need us to change you, Mishima. You're strong enough to figure this out on your own." With that, the Phantom Thief turned away from the other's dejected and conflicted expression. The temptation to embrace him and promise him that life would get better nearly made him look back. But instead he shoved his hands into his coat's pockets and walked back toward his team, who reassured him that he had made the right choice.


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N:** Prompt: "For the Mishima/Akira prompts, sequel to no 12 maybe?"

* * *

Though Akira had planned on faking sleep for a few more minutes, intending to "wake up" like he hadn't heard Mishima's appraisal, drowsiness still lingered in his limbs and lured him back into unconsciousness. Morgana, currently sprawled out on his side next to the teenager, watched the flashy overpowered fights still unfolding on the television screen. His ears briefly flicked forward to catch the sounds of Mishima's cheering when Futaba finished off a boss monster.

The feline supposed he could understand the appeal of video games. Unlike in Mementos or Palaces, fights carried no real risk; if a battle was lost, it could be restarted. That fact meant one could enjoy the satisfaction of mowing down hordes of enemies while the gamer's body stayed safe. If he asked Futaba, he knew she would insist there was far more to games than that, but he viewed them as nothing more than brief distractions.

Once Futaba finished the level, she decided to call it quits for the night. Stretching his arms above his head, Mishima agreed. His gaze flicked over to Akira. Noticing this, she shot him a secretive smirk before telling him they should let the other sleep on. After a moment he nodded and, offering to walk her home, followed her downstairs.

An hour later Akira finally stirred once more. Shifting a numb arm out from underneath him, he blearily opened his eyes and blinked over at the black television screen.

"You've been asleep for a while. Futaba and Mishima left," Morgana informed.

Akira's lips pursed, as if disappointed that he had slept that long. However, another thought must have crossed his mind shortly after, if the giddy smile returning to his face was any indication. Rolling onto his back and reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his phone, unlocked it, and opened his contacts.

Morgana swept his tongue across his front paw a few times, and in between licks he easily caught sight of the name Akira tapped on.

"Hey, don't start a conversation this late," the feline warned. He couldn't count the number of times he had caught Akira texting Mishima well into the night.

"It'll be quick." Despite that, his thumbs paused indecisively. Trying to compliment Mishima without sounding abrupt and revealing he had heard what the other said about him, no doubt. "Besides, I had a nap."

Morgana rolled his eyes. "Fine, but only for a couple hours. You need your sleep if you don't want to pass out during class again."

Settling down on the mattress, Morgana suppressed the urge to shake his head. Keeping a body well maintained should be a priority for a Phantom Thief.

…but emotional health was just as important, he supposed, and he couldn't fault Akira for pursuing this happiness.

He resolved to cease his badgering and let Akira stay up a little longer. Just this once.


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N:** Prompt: "I really wanted to see a story where Mishima actually got a palace because of the phansite and how Kurusu would deal with it."

This ended up having more Ryuji than Akira. Sorry about that!

* * *

Long crimson carpets snaked around the city before joining to cover the floor of what should be Shujin Academy. Countless people, all wearing Phantom Thieves' shirts or clutching autographed pictures of Mishima, cheered at the many flat screen televisions hanging from every building. The chants of "thank you Mishima" and "the Phantom Thieves are so lucky to have Mishima" rang throughout the streets.

Inside stood a sea of reporters and cameramen. They eyes were glued to the stage, where a podium waited for someone to speak from it. Then, as a group of people walked on stage, the resulting uproar from the crowd would have shattered any normal person's ear drums.

Shadow Mishima, donning a gleaming silver suit emblazoned with the Phantom Thieves' logo, waved to the masses. Directly behind him the rest of the Phantom Thieves followed. The false Akira appeared brighter in appearance than the others, as if only he earned the same attention as Mishima.

Upon reaching the podium, the shadow's golden gaze swept over the crowd, who politely quieted. Offering a wide smile, he placed his hand on "Akira's" shoulder. "The Phantom Thieves wouldn't be anywhere without me, as you all know. As their official manager…"

Meanwhile, standing amidst the fans, the real Phantom Thieves watched the display.

"It's like…Hollywood in America," Ann realized.

"His ego is way out of control." Morgana observed. When a careless reporter nearly stepped on his tail, he huffily stepped closer to his taller companions.

Ryuji glanced at Akira, who had stayed silent since they arrived. The Phantom Thief leader shifted his weight on his feet, like he wanted to dash up to the stage. Guilt deepened the wrinkles between his eyebrows, and he bit harshly down on his lip to ground himself.

"Don't blame yourself for this, dude," Ryuji insisted. He didn't know Mishima as well as Akira, but this palace must be built on forcibly forgetting pain and reveling in others' praise. After being terrorized for so long under Kamoshida, it made sense that the Phan-site admin desired positive acknowledgement.

Ryuji's shin ached painfully, and whether it was from sympathy or the old injury flaring up he didn't know.


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N:** Prompt: "Mishima has feelings for Akira but Akira is already dating one of the girls"

* * *

Mishima's eyes followed Akira's arm, which slid behind Ann and settled across her shoulders. As she flashed Akira a fond smile, Mishima snapped his gaze back down to the open workbook waiting on the table. Hot jealousy bit into his thoughts, affected only by the freezing splashes of grief.

Beside him Ryuji huffed at the difficult math problem whose answer eluded him. They all currently occupied a table at Leblanc, and they had gathered in the hopes of studying for upcoming exams.

But all Mishima managed to focus on was the subtle affections between the new couple seated across from him.

He had known it was coming. Akira was constantly surrounded by attractive people, so naturally he would end up dating one of them eventually. Mishima knew that on his own he was uninteresting enough; when compared to Akira's other friends he was the gravel beneath glittering gems.

Despite that knowledge, the bitterness and disappointment gnawing at his soul remained.

"…Mishima?"

"You're spacing out. Are you all right?"

Hearing Akira's and Ann's concerned voices, he looked up again. He tried not to notice how Akira's thumb idly rubbed her shoulder.

Hateful words formed on his tongue. However, images of the pair smiling as they enjoyed each other's company slowly suppressed the flare of envy.

Akira was happy. Ann was happy.

What right did he have to take that away?

"…I'm—"

"I got it!" Ryuji abruptly exclaimed, causing Mishima to jump. The blond smugly tossed down his pencil and, arms crossed, beamed at the others. "That has to be the right answer. I carried the five and everything."

"You did? Let me see that," Ann insisted, leaning over and snatching Ryuji's book.

"Well I'll be damned. I think that's right," Akira muttered.

"What do you mean 'I'll be damned'?!" Ryuji indignantly responded.

As the short bickering ensued, Mishima halfheartedly listened to the amusing retorts and teases while despising the discontent still leaking into his thoughts.


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N:** Prompt: "Genderbend AU? I do like some Yuri and Akira and Mishima's names are already female-sounding, so changing names won't be a problem."

* * *

"How the hell did your hair get this tangled?" Mishima muttered as she picked at a stubborn knot with her thumbnails.

 _Apparently having magic clothes doesn't mean you have indestructible hair_ , Akira wished she could say. While Mishima knew she was a Phantom Thief, the Phan-site admin knew none of the inner details, and Morgana insisted that was for the best.

"I fell," she responded instead. A subtle ache started to form in her legs from sitting cross-legged on the bed for over twenty minutes. Behind her kneeled Mishima, brow furrowed in concentration and chin-length hair tucked behind her ears.

Feeling sharp tugs on her hair—the other must be back to brushing—Akira struggled to keep her neck still against the pulling force. Since the curly stands reached a few inches past her shoulders, having tangles was the norm. But two hours in Futaba's palace had whipped her hair into a nightmare of knots and frizz worse than she'd had in years.

"You fell?" Mishima questioned uncertainly. "Where? I could have sworn a picked out some sand."

"I took Morgana to the park," she explained, and she both was grateful and guilty for how easily the lie slid off her tongue.

Curled up on the couch, Morgana lifted her head and shot her an indignant glare. "The park? I'm not a dog! And does the park even have a sandbox...?"

Mishima ignored the cat's meowing as she finally reached the ends of Akira's hair. As a comfortable silence ensued, except for the occasional muffled rake of the brush through more strands, the taller female skimmed through a series of text messages from Hifumi on her phone.

"Finished," Mishima declared, sitting back on her heels.

Akira ran a hand experimentally through the locks, and with delight she noted the ease with which she managed the motion. She opened her mouth to thank the other, but then closed it as an idea popped into her mind.

"Look at this meme Ryuji sent me. The letters are kind of small though," she claimed, holding the phone in her lap. As she anticipated, curious Mishima leaned over her shoulder until her face hovered beside hers, and she swiftly turned her head to peck her on the cheek.

A dusting of pink, summoned more from surprise than bashfulness, rose to the admin's cheeks. She released a short, amused sigh. "You didn't have to trick me to do that." Despite her words, her tone held only soft fondness.

"True. Can I have more kisses with you knowing then?"

She received her answer when Mishima covered Akira's playful grin with her own.


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N:** A lot of people enjoyed #11 (uke/seme personality swap), so here's a sequel to it! It was inspired by a couple people who wanted to see what would happen when Mishima picks up Akira for a date.

* * *

After drying the last mug with a white cloth, Sojiro set the cup on the rack alongside its mismatched brethren. More than once he had considered buying new, matching dishes, but the variety of neutral colors and abstract patterns offered individuality that he was reluctant to part with.

From the corner of his eye he spotted Akira leaving the stairwell. He hadn't even heard the kid walking down; Sojiro swore he moved lighter on his feet each day. "Heading somewhere?" he casually questioned, turning to face him.

Akira hesitated by the counter, allowing the older male to notice the teenager's shirt: a sleek black button-up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the fabric appeared wrinkled near the top button, as if Akira had debated if two undone buttons showed too much.

The door opening caught his attention, and he looked over to see someone of Akira's age step inside. Wearing an emerald long-sleeved v-neck, the newcomer glanced around curiously before smiling at Akira. "Hey."

"This a friend of yours?" Sojiro asked, leaning against the counter. They were dressed awfully nice for a casual hangout, though. And why was Akira's face flushing pink? Sure he knew the kid was passive and kept to himself, but it wasn't like Sojiro hadn't met friends of his before.

"…you could say that," Akira mumbled. His index finger reached for a curl underneath his ear and anxiously fiddled with it.

"Sorry for intruding. I'm Mishima Yuuki," Mishima greeted, though his attention clearly lay elsewhere as he reached toward the other. He gingerly placed his fingers over the top of Akira's fidgeting ones, and in response the taller sent him a fond, grateful smile.

…o _h._

Well that explained the dressing up.

"Well, have fun," Sojiro said and, okay, he silently had to admit he was proud of the soft spoken kid. For the past few months—in other words, after realizing his charge wasn't a criminal by any stretch of the imagination—he had been worried that Akira was too subdued to participate in normal teenager activities. Now, however, it appeared Sojiro had nothing to worry about.

The curly-haired male jumped, as if he had forgotten Sojiro was there, and sheepishly nodded. "Right."

"And you. Mishima," he said, his tone abruptly oozing warning. "Fun fact: I used to be in the government. Contacting old friends and tracking down a punk would be easier than me writing my name."

Mishima gulped. "Understood, sir."

Sojiro's grin returned. "Go on, then. Don't stay out too late." Once the two left, he shook his head at his own parental protectiveness while wondering when he started thinking of Akira as family.


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N** : Prompt: "After a particularly nasty trip to the metaverse, Akira comes home with bloody wounds, aches and bruises that a diarahan couldn't reach. A worried Mishima patches him up, and while he isn't a magic spell, it's more than exactly what Akira needs."

* * *

Akira's jacket weighed heavily on the large tender bruises across his back, and he pulled at a section of his shirt that started to stick to one of the many scabs forming on his chest. With each step toward Le Blanc he was painfully aware of how his clothes shifted over his injured form. Yet he cared little about the occasional brush of fabric over torn skin or swelling flesh, for he believed he deserved the discomfort and more.

Walking into the café, he saw no sign of Sojiro. Good. That, combined with the fact that Morgana had decided to watch over a wounded Ann for the night, meant he wouldn't have to take the precaution of hiding his winces. It was odd how Sojiro left the establishment unlocked if no one was here, though. Maybe he had simply forgotten.

Head tilted down, Akira slowly climbed the steps.

"…Akira?"

The Phantom Thief's head snapped up to see Mishima tentatively heading toward him. The shorter wore a concerned expression and, before Akira could speak, the other's gaze caught on his chest.

"Is that blood?!"

Akira bit back a curse, realizing he was the one who had forgotten something; he had asked his boyfriend to wait for him here so they could hang out that night. He wanted to deny the observation—a red pen had busted on him, or Yusuke accidentally splashed paint–but suddenly all willpower deserted him, as if finally chased off by the warped regret and condemnation plaguing his soul. He could only stand there, hardly able to register Mishima's worried questions.

 _Don't bother with me. I almost killed everyone today._

Maybe he had said that out loud after all, because in the next moment Mishima's tone softened into reassurances and gentle inquires. A hand gently led Akira to the bed, and Akira's numb senses vaguely recognized that he was sitting down. Only the sharp prickles and bone-deep aches as Mishima tugged off his jacket hauled him back into reality.

Once his jacket and shirt were removed, the Phan-site admin started meticulously cleaning and covering injuries with unnerving experience. Instead of allowing Akira to focus on the pain, however, the other prompted him again.

Before he realized he opened his mouth, half-intelligible words and choked off sobs spilled out.

Strong enemies, dangerous battle but worthy reward. Already exhausted they should have turned back. Should have, _should have_ …Makoto was dizzy, she couldn't tell him it was a bad idea. He told them to try, despite the spikesicetoomanyenemies, goddammit they almost died because stupid stupid _sofuckingstupid_ —

Warmth enveloped Akira. He blinked watery eyes, dumbstruck at the arms wrapped around him. Then, he desperately clung to Mishima, fingers digging into the supportive presence who refused to leave him to his ravaging remorse.


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N:** This drabble takes place in the Nobles AU from chapter 13.

 **IMPORTANT: I will stop taking prompts after this Sunday, September 13. So if you have any prompts, please have them in before the end of that day!**

* * *

"Gimme another—"

"No, you're done," Mishima swiftly cut off Akira, who swayed dangerously when he turned to face the other with a pout. Grimacing against the fresh waft of alcoholic breath, the shorter male clasped a hand on his shoulder to balance him.

"But I haveta win." Akira pointed at a table on the other side of the tavern—or rather, he managed to point several feet to the right of that table, but Mishima understood well enough. That table was where his supposed opponent, an older man with a gecko tattoo that sent him a look of "challenge," had sat.

That man had also left an hour ago, and Akira just now appeared to register that, if the confused squinting was any indication.

Mishima sighed and glanced at the two women sitting across from them. Humming an off-beat melody, Haru sat surprisingly upright. A deep flush colored her cheeks and her eyes stayed shut, as if she was enamored by her makeshift tune and how her hand, interlocked with Makoto's, rested upon the table. Makoto's free arm hid her face; she had laid her head down on the table several minutes ago and released an occasional sleepy snuffle.

Being the only sober one of the group was both amusing and tiring, he had discovered. But somebody needed to stay alert, and he had drawn the short straw that night.

Arms clumsily wrapped around Mishima's middle. At first he accepted the contact with both recognition and exasperated fondness. But then Akira attempted to swing a leg onto his lap, as if wanting to wrap his entire body around the other's, but instead nearly pitched them both over. Only Mishima's quick grab on the heavy table saved them.

"Sorry…Yuuuuki," Akira slurred, squishing his cheek against the shorter male's shoulder and continuing to adhere to his side.

"Yeah yeah," he muttered affectionately before pressing a kiss into curly locks.


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N:** Prompt: "How about Akira taking Mishima to the goddamn crepe shop since he clearly wanted to go that one time in Harajuku? (Ryuji I love you but what the hell was that about seriously)

 **Prompts/drabble requests are now closed!**

* * *

Anticipation zinging through his veins, Mishima gazed upon the small, colorful building. Through the glass windows marked with prim, looping letters declaring specials, he eagerly surveyed the numerous customers conversing and laughing over crepes.

"We're really going in here?" he questioned, the syllables quick and enthusiastic.

"Yep," Akira confirmed. Catching the warm, pleased smile on the taller male's face, Mishima glanced away sheepishly.

Akira rested his fingers on the small of his back and gave a light nudge. "We won't get any crepes standing here. And don't worry about price."

The Phan-site admin looked up at him in protest. "Are you sure—"

"It's your birthday. No way I'm making you pay for it." He pulled out a dull gray credit card. "Ryuji is. He said it's his present for you. So, ready to go in?"

Mishima grinned. "Hell yes I am."

Upon entering the establishment, Mishima read the menu hanging above the counter. Wearing an intense expression he reserved only for the most difficult of video game bosses, he scrutinized each possibility.

"You look so serious. It's adorable," Akira murmured in his ear.

Cheeks and the tips of his ears suddenly scorching, Mishima glared at the other. "You made me lose my train of thought."

Akira shrugged helplessly.

Turning back to the counter, he returned to his deliberation. After finally making his choice he put in his order, and they sat at a table near the windows. "I'll let you try a bite of mine. It's going to be so good!"

"Sure. Try not to fill up though; we have a party to go to afterward."

"A party?" Mishima's eyes widened. "Wait, you don't mean for…?"

Akira leaned his head on his hand and smiled.

This time the flush that dusted his face was born from an unfathomable gratitude. _Friends, they were his friends, his friends were throwing him a birthday party._ And as he received his delicious crepe, both his tongue and soul savored this moment.


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N:** Prompt: "Akira works for Miss Lala at crossroads and she does decide to dress him up like a cute maid. Yuuki falls for a cute girl he sees doing errands around Shinjoku. Bet you can guess where I'm going with this"

* * *

 _talk to her man! u got this_

After reading Ryuji's encouraging text, Mishima took a deep breath and pocketed his phone. His gaze, searching for the frills of a red and white dress, swept across the dark buildings and flashing signs of Shinjuku.

For the past month he had seen a maid—or at least, a girl in a maid's dress—frequent various shops in the area certain days of the week. Her long, lightly muscled legs accented by heeled shoes had caught his attention since the first time he saw her. She didn't need the extra height, as she had to be quite taller than himself (though he hadn't stood close enough to her yet to discover how much), but Mishima more than appreciated them. She also had long, sleek black hair that cascaded down her shoulders and to the center of her back.

Unsure how to approach her, the Phan-site admin watched her from afar whenever she passed entered his line of sight. From the few interactions he saw, she spoke little but conveyed a subtle confidence. Unfortunately he had yet to receive a clear look at her face; she was always too far away.

As he ran through various greetings in his head, a familiar swath of ruby and black exited Crossroads.

Mishima's heart thumped in his chest, and he struggled to hold onto his fraying composure. Doubts slithered into his mind and chased away all of his careful planning for their first meeting.

Maybe this was a bad idea. No, a terrible idea. What girl would want to talk to a guy she'd never met, especially in Shinjuku? It'd be smarter to back away and—

But then she started walking in his direction, and the part of his brain screaming to move disconnected with his lead feet.

 _Shit shit why is she coming over here what do I do and wait what the hell why does she look like Akira—_

Mouth falling open, he could only stand there in shock.

"Hey, Mishima," Akira casually greeted. Underneath the wig's bangs his charcoal eyes shone clearly, and his glasses were nowhere to be seen. "I forgot you hung around here sometimes. We should talk later; right now I have to pick up a package for Lala. See you!"

And just like that, he hurried off, leaving Mishima to slowly piece together what just happened. When he finally managed to, he decided to break his promise of telling Ryuji what happened with the maid.

…especially since he was still dealing with the fact that he was not disappointed _at all_ with this outcome.


	28. Chapter 28

**A/N:** Prompt: "how about something with a Yandere Mishima, please? I'd be elated over the moon (ha) if you would! The world needs a little more crazy, and honestly I could see things progressing that way if his shadow wasn't dealt with properly and his obsession veered towards something other than the site."

* * *

Tomorrow I'll have more in stock," Iwai said, leaning back in his chair behind the counter.

"I'll come back tomorrow then. Thanks." Akira rolled his sore shoulder; between Mementos and his heavy bag he wondered when the muscles would catch a break. When he turned to leave, he heard the creak of front chair legs returning to the ground.

"I heard about the assaults happening at your school, kid. Watch yourself."

Akira stiffly nodded. In the past few weeks several teenagers had received brutal beatings, yet those injured students refused to say who harmed them. Out of fear, the Phantom Thief leader assumed. He and the others had actually planned to have a meeting that night to discuss the topic.

Upon exiting the shop he traveled his usual route to the café. The sensation of being watched prickled up and down his spine, but whenever he subtly glanced around, he spotted no one. He muttered an inquiry to Morgana, who popped his head out of the bag, and the feline said that he didn't see anyone suspicious either.

When he reached Yongen-Jaya, he deliberately turned down a wrong alley. If there was someone following him, he had no intention of leading them to Leblanc.

After turning a corner he swiftly turned around only to see Mishima waving at him mere feet in front of him.

"Were you following me…?" Surely not, surely Akira was imagining that his loyal ally was stalking him, but nonetheless he blurted out the question.

"You've been spending a lot of time at the gun shop lately, Akira," Mishima casually commented.

The wariness already present in Akira's body spiked into shock and caution. Meanwhile, Morgana lifted himself out of the bag to settle on his shoulder. "So you _were_ following us," the feline confirmed, and the threat translated into a threatening hiss for Mishima's ears.

Mishima's gaze abruptly hardened, yet his posture remained unnervingly relaxed. "Is he dangerous? I can get rid of him for you."

"Leave him alone!" the Phantom Thief leader automatically snapped, and he resisted the urge to wince as Morgana unintentionally and angrily sank his claws into his shoulder. "What's going on, Mishima? You've got a good explanation, right?" Akira desperately wanted there to be some easy, not damning reason, because he couldn't fathom why the supportive Phan-site admin was acting like this.

"If he's dangerous to you, then I'll have to do something about him," Mishima said, ignoring the questions.

"I'm not going anywhere—"

"Wait," Akira interrupted. A chilling thought had sprung into his mind, and the cold spread to the tips of his fingers. "Are you…did you hurt those students…?"

"Not personally." Mishima shrugged, and a grin crept over his face. "There are a lot of desperate people out there, begging the Phantom Thieves to change hearts. Turns out they'll do anything if I say I'll make their requests happen sooner, including going after those who speak badly about the Phantom Thieves."

"The power's gone to your head," Morgana growled.

Akira swallowed past the lump in his throat. "You can't do that, Mishima," he slowly, calmly proclaimed. "We can find you help—"

"Help? Like a therapist?" Mishima burst into a fit of laughter, the sound broken and hysterical. "Or like, hahaha, teachers? Other students? My…parents…? Hahaaa…" Tear tracks slashed down his cheeks as he doubled over and gasped for breath.

"…adults never help." Mishima straightened, the too-sharp grin from earlier swiftly returning. "But _you_ do. You stole Kamoshida's heart, you gave me power I've never had, you even gave me a way to become noticed. And I _love_ you for that."

A quiet ding interrupted him. He reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and waved it. "No one is allowed to hurt you, and I'll make sure of it."

When he stopped moving the device, Akira and Morgana peered at the phone's screen.

A news alert declared in bold, unfeeling letters that a Shinjuku student had been found unconscious in front of the school and missing two fingers.


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N:** Prompt: "Maybe one where they're at the beach and Mishima gets distracted by how hot Akira is in his swimsuit that he doesn't notice the wave that knocked off his own swimsuit until Akira teasingly held it up and a cute chase ensued."

* * *

Dark curls, slightly damp from stray splashes of droplets, shone in the bright sunlight illuminating the warm day. A lighthearted taunt left Akira's lips, but the gentle ocean waves and cawing of birds drowned out his speech. Not that Mishima would have comprehended the words anyway; his gaze drawn to the Phantom Thief, he remained enraptured with the water gleaming on lean muscle and sunshine sparkling in teasing eyes.

Akira, facing the beach, lifted his hand to wave at the dark feline basking on the sand. For the past few minutes he had been jokingly inviting Morgana into the water. Naturally Morgana adamantly refused each request.

Meanwhile, Mishima, who stood in the water hardly a dozen feet away from Akira, continued to lose in his battle for self-control because _Akira was too damn hot for his own good._

Mishima's shoulders jumped as he realized Akira start to turn his way. Snapping his eyes to a random spot—a bright blue umbrella leaning precariously on the beach—he failed to notice that the other male was shouting out a warning.

The sudden weight of a large wave barreled over him from behind. It mercilessly shoved him underwater and flooded into his mouth and nose. Flailing, panic engulfed him for the few seconds it took to find and breach the surface. The inside of his nose burned as he hacked up seawater, and, knowing with his luck that Akira must have seen it, pink flared across his face.

"Are you okay?!"

Turning toward the concerned voice, Mishima saw the other's expression shift into relief. The taller male appeared completely unruffled; how he had managed to avoid the wave unaffected was so unfair.

But then Akira's face grew unreadable as he plucked an object out of the water, and he held up a bundle of dark green _wait a minute that looks like—_

Mishima's head snapped down to see that underneath the water he now lacked a crucial article of clothing.

Mortification scalding his cheeks more than the sun ever could, he swiftly ducked his hands into the ocean to cover himself. The huge wavte must have knocked his trunks off and sent them Akira's way.

"You better come and get it, Yuuki." Akira threw a teasing wink his way, and he spun the waterlogged fabric around his finger by the waistband. How the hell he managed that without slapping himself in the face with it, Mishima had no idea. "As much as I appreciate your boldness, flashing is a bit much before a first date."

The shorter male opened his mouth to respond, but no words would give him his trunks back faster. So that was how he found himself rushing through the water toward Akira, who took a few long steps back but did relinquish it when Mishima caught him.


	30. Chapter 30

**A/N:** Prompt: "maybe Akira finds out that Mishima writes phantom thieves fan fiction"

* * *

 _Phantom Thieves Workout: Want legs like Skull or Queen's tight stomach? Keep reading to see what exercises fitness experts believe the renowned rebels use…_

Mishima scrolled past the article without reading further, and Akira almost protested. Maybe he could compare the workouts of these supposed exercises to what he actually did during his heists. But he also had no desire to actually read a long article, and there were surely shorter and more interesting topics further down the Phan-site.

Idly stretching, he shifted slightly from where he sat next to Mishima on the bed. The movement caused his hip to brush against the other's. Mishima's fingers paused on the mousepad for a moment, but then he returned his attention to the computer in his lap. Taking this as a go-ahead, Akira, with no small amount of satisfaction, leaned back against the headboard.

Mishima occasionally switched between news articles and the Phan-site. The Phantom Thieves had become an icon among the public in the past year; a group of unknown people stealing various art or treasures and returning them to their rightful owners. Despite Akira and his friends' caution, a news photographer had managed to hastily capture an image of them one night. It was an impressive picture, he had to admit. All nine of them standing confidently on a rooftop, the lights from a nearby billboard illuminating their bodies just enough to reveal striking costumes and gear. The dark night, helped by their masks, covered their faces to further the allure of mystery.

Needless to say, the Phan-site had exploded when the picture came out. And Mishima, a friend from Akira's school who didn't know their secret, had never been so excited.

Along with theories about who the thieves really were and general fangirling, there were two other sections: fanart and fanfiction. Akira and Futaba had delved into those parts countless times, and whenever they found something particularly amusing or impressive they showed it to the others.

Lost in thought, he came to when Mishima started moving. "I'll be right back," he said. After placing the laptop on his bed, he headed to the bathroom.

Akira moved his hand toward his pocket, about to reach for his phone, when he noticed out of the corner of his eye that neither the news nor the Phan-site was on the screen anymore. Had Mishima accidentally clicked off? Now the screen displayed an in-progress Word document titled _The Laughing Masquerade: Part 2_.

Wait, he recognized that title. Hadn't he seen it while glancing through new fics a month ago? Except he recalled it saying Part One, which meant…

"No, this can't be," he mumbled, moving his eyes downward.

 _As Joker and Fox each take one of your hands, you fight the blush rising to your face. You didn't want to embarrass yourself in front of the handsome masked men before you…_

"Holy shit it is, he writes fanfiction," he whispered with far too much glee. Hearing the toilet flush and the sink turn on, he hurriedly clicked back on to the Phan-site, pulled out his phone, and pretended to read through texts. He must not have schooled his expression as well as he thought, though, since Mishima gave him an odd look when he returned.

"You look really happy about something," he noted, carefully picking up his laptop and settling back on the bed.

Akira waved it off. "Oh, it's nothing. Just thinking about some stories I'm going to read when I get home."


	31. Chapter 31

**A/N:** Prompt: "PLEASE continue the vampire/vampire hunter"

This takes place after #15 and will be continued in #32. I also played around with traditional supernatural lore a bit.

* * *

A silver bullet pierced through a raggedy, massive wolf's shoulder. As the beast howled in pain, spraying infectious foam from its jaws, Mishima gritted his teeth and started to reload his gun.

Nearby, two other rabid beasts, eyes bloodshot and glazed, lunged at a tiger-sized cat yokai. Deep blue eyes bright against dark fur, the yokai expertly dodged with a leap on white paws. Another wolf, this one black with a splotch of yellow on his head, rushed to help the feline.

Adrenaline surging through his veins, Mishima had no time to wonder how the others were doing. He only knew the basics of fighting werewolves and never practiced that knowledge—until now. And it seemed that whatever disease these particular ones had meant that warning shots would do nothing to deter them. So the former vampire hunter focused on making his adrenaline-fueled, shaking fingers finish reloading, but already the werewolf he shot had him back in his sights.

And right as he clicked the gun shut, the creature charged. Mishima dashed to the right. A bulky foreleg collided into his shoulder and sent him careening toward the ground. He managed to catch himself on his hands and rolled out of the way of oncoming fangs. A sharp, cracked tooth caught his sleeve, but he hardly noticed as he hurried into a crouch. He raised his gun and fired just as the werewolf lunged. A bullet now in his heart, the creature's legs collapsed and his body crashed into the ground.

Releasing a sigh of relief, Mishima wiped off the sweat dripping on his brow with the back of his hand. When he glanced over to Ryuji and Morgana, he noticed that they had finished off their opponents as well.

A searing pain suddenly engulfed his arm. Gasping, he instinctively clutched at his bicep and struggled to keep himself sitting up. His friends hurried to his side, with Ryuji swiftly transforming back into his human form to rip off Mishima's coat sleeve.

" _Shit_ ," Ryuji cursed through gritted teeth, and Morgana's eyes widened at the undoubted scrape of teeth on the human's arm.

"But it's…not a bite, right…?" Mishima panted as his muscles jolted and an internal, scorching heat razed though his being.

"Doesn't matter. With the way they were foaming, even if it's just a scrape…" Morgana trailed off, hissing in frustration.

"And the full moon will be out soon, so we have no time to get you a cure. Dammit." Ryuji hastily ran a hand through his blond hair, as if that would help him think.

Mishima struggled to hold onto the conversation, but his thoughts scattered with each new painful spark and unnatural crawl underneath his skin.

"He's going to turn, and fast," Ryuji muttered.

"You're a werewolf. What did your pack do when you turned for the first time?" Morgana demanded.

"Made sure I didn't run off, and kept me next to someone I cared about. It helped calm me down. But we don't have anyone—"

Morgana bunched his muscles in preparation to sprint. "Akira! I'll get him. But if I don't get back before Mishima turns, keep him in this clearing."

"Got it," he shouted at Morgana's retreating back. Looking back down at Mishima, who had curled into himself and rocked with frequent spasms, Ryuji fought the urge to reach out to him. He hadn't known the other for long, and touching him might cause him to lash out. So instead he transformed back into a wolf and, unable to stand still, paced beside the agonized male and kept a watchful eye on him.


	32. Chapter 32

**A/N:** Prompt: "My request is Werewolf Mishima? We've seen Vampire Akira, so I'd assume it's fair?"

This is a continuation of #31.

* * *

Reeking hair of dead werewolves, cooling blood, sharp scent of uprooted grass, patches of uprooted soil, whiffs of forest greens on the breeze, blast of almost-familiar musk as a four-legged body constantly drove into his side to redirect him—

Mishima vigorously shook his head, desperately attempting to reign in his heightened sense of smell. But with his pointed ears swiveling back and forth, catching his own terrified whines and grunts, and his mind struggling to understand the newfound muscles and bones, everything was simply _too much_. He didn't dare open his eyes, half-stumbling and half-thrashing in some vain effort to relieve the sensory overload.

Despite having eyes scrunched shut, he could feel the enticing moonlight bearing down on him. It coaxed him, tempting him to submit to the wolf instincts shrieking _runrunrun._

Only a muzzle and furry shoulder—he knew this werewolf, that brash rebellious presence, what was his name, it was so hard to _think_ —shoving him to prevent him from toppling over or dashing too far prevented him from giving into the moon's encouragements. But with each passing second his instincts increasingly insisted he attack the pushy wolf and race away.

"Yuuki."

A gently commanding voice pierced through the jumbled scraps of Mishima's mind. He froze, chest heaving. Comforting memories flashed in his mind's eye.

Cool fingers brushing against his own. A gentle smile that didn't quite hide thin fangs. Charcoal gaze glittering with equal parts mischief and fondness.

 _Akira_.

Mishima finally opened his eyes and, after a moment of adjusting to the muted colors, turned his head toward the voice.

"It's all right, Yuuki." Akira spoke calmly as he walked toward them, and only the hint of concern in his voice betrayed his otherwise collected demeanor. A cat yokai stayed near the edge of the clearing, though Mishima's attention had narrowed completely to the vampire anyway. He barely noticed that Ryuji, whose fur appeared slightly ruffled from the earlier scuffling, released a breath of relief beside him.

And when Akira reached out a hand to him, the midnight blue wolf stomped down the moon's insistence and leaned his head into the vampire's fingers.


	33. Chapter 33

**A/N:** Prompt: "What about a small thing where Mishima ends up finding an abandoned puppy and he ends up going to Akira for help (either to help get puppy supplies cause he plans on keeping it or help him find the little guy a good home in case he can't keep the pup) and both end up watching in amusement as the puppy tries to play with Morgana"

* * *

"A little help here!"

Ignoring Morgana's cry, Akira and Mishima watched the scene unfold with open amusement. While they sat on the floor—or rather, Mishima sat and Akira lounged on his side—the feline struggled to fend off a persistent puppy's attempts at play.

Mishima had discovered the excitable bundle of tawny hair when walking to Leblanc and, upon seeing no other dogs or possible owners, he couldn't leave it in the increasingly cold evening. So he bundled it in his jacket and brought it to the café. To his immense relief Sojiro had already left for the day, and as soon as Akira spotted the puppy he ripped open a can of mushy cat food (which Morgana still refused to touch) for the starving pup.

And although Morgana did not favor dogs in the slightest, he begrudgingly agreed to let it stay until they found a home for it.

…but that most certainly did _not_ mean he was okay with the tiny beast trying to chew his ears.

"Nah, you're doing fine by yourself," Akira commented. Then he released a long dramatic sigh as he moved onto his stomach and pointedly looked between Mishima and the animals. "I'm useless right now anyway. Too many cute faces in one room. I can't deal."

Rolling his eyes, Mishima lightly swatted the other male's head with a grin. Meanwhile, the puppy gave a high-pitched joyful bark before successfully jumping and latching onto the feline's ear.

"Ow ow…between you two saps and the puppy, I won't get any rest tonight," Morgana grunted out as he tugged his ear away. He swiftly reached out with his paw and held it in front of him, as if to show that he wanted the pup to shoo, but that did nothing except make it easier for it to tackle him and knock them both over.

"What did Morgana say?" Mishima questioned.

Akira waved his hand in dismissal and shifted to rest his chin on the other's knee. "Morgana's just wondering how he got lucky enough to have a new playmate."

While the puppy wagged its tail ceaselessly and continued its playful assault, the feline stayed on the floor and released a defeated sigh. "Why does this thing have so much energy?" he mourned. After a few moments, he sent a half-hearted glare at the humans. "And I'm not a cute face. I look cool," he mumbled.


	34. Chapter 34

**A/N:** For the prompt below, I unfortunately don't think I can do it justice due to my extremely limited knowledge of the sport. But the prompt itself is so good that I decided to share it!

* * *

 **Prompt:**

"Yuuki and Akira are great childhood friends who took up boxing when they were younger. They bonded over their various bruises and bandages, laughing as they scold each other over their injuries. Fast forward to high school, and Yuuki finds it hard to keep his eyes off Akira whenever he goes shirtless during workouts and sparring. Akira asks Yuuki to spar with him one day, much to his surprise. Akira strips his shirt off slowly, while Yuuki just dies inside. He blushes when Akira gestures for him to do the same. Needless to say, sexiness ensues afterwards, especially with Akira clinching often. (And the entire P5 gang just watches the entire slow romance develop from the background, taking bets on who makes the first move; not to mention congratulating the pair the day after after having been oblivious as fuck for so long.)"


	35. Chapter 35

**A/N:** Prompt: "domestic shuyuu (like post-marriage or sharing an apartment, anything)"

* * *

Artificial wood boards of varying sizes, black screws, oddly shaped metal pieces, and tools that probably weren't meant to be used in building a desk were strewn across the living room floor. Two young adults and a bored cat sat amidst the mess, the shorter squinting at the giant unfolded instruction page and the other attempting to affix two ill-fitting pieces together.

Mishima tossed the manual to the ground in defeat. "We've been trying to get this thing together for two hours. We should just call Sojiro—"

"No, we can do this," Akira adamantly insisted before scrabbling for a screw he dropped.

Mishima shared a disbelieving look with Morgana, who perched on the top of a used couch.

"Riiight. Well, I'm starving, so I'm going to make dinner," Mishima decided, standing. "Want to join, Morgana?"

Nodding, the feline stretched, leapt to the floor, and followed him into the kitchen. Mishima opened the fridge and gazed in; they didn't have much food yet, seeing as they had moved in to their apartment yesterday.

 _Their apartment_. Those two words warmed his chest and caused a silly, elated grin to form on his face. As cliché as it sounded, sometimes he wondered if this was all a wonderful dream: a loving boyfriend, friends, a home, happiness…

Morgana nudged his head against Mishima's leg, dragging him back into the real world. When he looked down, he noticed the cat pointedly staring at frozen fish in the freezer door. Taking the hint—even though he would never be able to understand the other's words, they had long since learned how to communicate in other ways—he pulled out the fish and closed the door.

After grilling the fish and cooking a side dish, as well as responding to Morgana's impatient meows with _no, just because you're not a regular cat doesn't mean you're allowed to jump on the counter,_ he placed the food in plates and peeked back into the living room.

Akira was lying down, ignoring the uncomfortable desk pieces that must be digging into his back, and listlessly staring up at the ceiling. "I defeated a god when I was sixteen. So why is putting a desk together so hard?"

Releasing an amused laugh, Mishima placed a plate on the ground, which Morgana headed straight to. He then grabbed the rest of the food and sat down on the couch. "You sure did, and I was a site admin who indirectly helped you do that. Pretty sure that building furniture was in neither of our job descriptions. So, ready to eat?"

Akira slunk onto the couch and dramatically flopped down beside him. Other than a sharper jawline and shorter curly hair, his appearance had not changed much in the years Mishima had known him. Mishima himself had grown a little taller—still shorter than Akira though, to his chagrin—and earned some broadness and build to his lean muscles thanks to the exercise/sports regimen he and Ryuji participated in. Instead of joining them, Akira often used his dexterous fingers to help Futaba with making cosplays or joining Ann in modeling shoots. They didn't see their other friends as much, since Makoto and Haru married and moved away last year, and Yusuke had such an erratic schedule with his traveling and art exhibitions that it was hard to catch him.

Mishima picked up a piece of fish with his chopsticks and held it to Akira's mouth. "Eat. We still need to take showers later."

"All right," the taller male pecked him on the cheek in thanks before accepting the bite offered. Mood brightened, he chewed, swallowed, and readily took the bowl handed to him. "This is good! Thanks for making it; I'll do breakfast tomorrow."

"Sure. You're better at making eggs anyway," Mishima agreed. Their shoulders shifted against each other as they talked and ate, sharing in their comfortable warm closeness.

"I have an idea on how we can take our showers faster," Akira said after a few minutes.

"Hm?"

And there was that familiar mischievous glint in the curly-haired man's eye, and Mishima immediately figured out what was coming before the other said it (but that didn't mean he was going to object, not at _all_ ).

"We can take one together—"

Suddenly a blur of black dashed on the couch, snatched a piece of fish off Akira's plate, and dropped onto the ground again. The startled couple looked down at the cat smugly holding the stolen food between his fangs, as if to say _and you call yourself a former thief. This is payment for making to me listen to you two._

Akira started to laugh, saying that "okay, yeah, I deserved that," and a moment later Mishima joined in the laughter. Leaning against each other in joyful mirth, they needed several minutes before they calmed down enough to finish their meals, which Morgana mercifully let them keep the rest of.

* * *

 **A/N:** And that's a wrap! This is the final drabble in this series. Thank you so much to everyone who sent in prompts; they were all awesome! And also a big thanks to all of my readers and commenters. I had a lot of fun writing these drabbles, and I'm glad that so many of you seemed to enjoy reading it.


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